


Phryne Gets Rejected

by TeaandBanjo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Rejection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 12:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15195296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaandBanjo/pseuds/TeaandBanjo
Summary: Sometimes, Phryne gets rejected.  How will she cope?





	Phryne Gets Rejected

Phryne Fisher opened the large, plain mailing envelope.  She lifted a single, typewritten sheet off the top of the packet of pages.

 

> Dear Miss Fisher:
> 
> Thank you for submitting your story “Three Nights in Paris” to our magazine.  We are returning your manuscript, as it does not suit our needs at this time.
> 
> In fact, our team of editors found the sex scenes unacceptably depraved, and so athletic as to be unbelievable.  “Fern”, “Cara” and “Pierre” are exciting and sensual characters, but we worry our readers might try to imitate some of their antics and be injured or killed.  I realize we are a magazine that publishes explicit indecent material, but we do have a responsibility to the public.
> 
> If you wish to submit some less ridiculous stories at some time in the future, I look forward to reviewing them.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Rudolfo Grosbeck,
> 
> Editor,  _ A Rake’s Reader _
> 
>  

“What an arse!”  Phryne muttered through clenched teeth.  “This is a totally accurate account! I was there!  Well, except for the bit with the swing.” 

“Is everything alright, Miss?”  Dorothy looked up from the piles of bills that she was sorting.

“My story has been rejected,” Phryne explained, with a sigh.

“Will you submit it to another magazine?”

“I don’t know, Dot.  “The Rake’s Reader” is the oldest and most exclusive literary porn journal on the planet.  I’m not sure it would suit anyone else.”

“Surely there is enough pornography already, Miss?”  Dot squared up the piles in front of her.

Phryne paused to consider her words.  Dot hadn’t (as far as Phryne knew) developed a taste for that sort of thing, so she might have to actually explain.   _ An analogy is in order... _

“Dot, does ‘Women’s Choice’ publish new embroidery patterns every month?” asked Phryne.

“Yes, Miss.”  Dot looked down, and lined up the piles of letters in a neat line on the coffee table.

“There are lots of designs already out there, right?”   _ That’s pillowcases, and decorative pillows, and lavatory seat covers for starters. _

“Well, yes,” admitted the young woman, who had at least two ladies’ magazines tucked in her work bag.

“Couldn’t you say there were enough embroidery patterns already?”  

Dot stared, worry lines creased her forehead as she considered the question.

“No, they are always making new ones.”  She smiled and continued, “Also, new artists come up with different ideas.  This month, they printed a piano scarf design that was entirely decorated with native Australian flowers in silk.  I wish I had a piano!”

“It’s the same thing with erotic stories, darling.”  Phryne tucked the letter and the typed pages of her story back into the envelope.  “The readers want new ideas, new styles, and the magazine tries to provide that.”

“Will you try again?”  asked Dorothy.

“I don’t know,” said Phryne.  “I do have a lot of other things keeping me busy these days.”

“I’m sure you know best,” Dot concluded, and ripped open another one of the letters.

The two of them worked in silence for a few minutes.

“I need to do more research.”

“Pardon, miss?”

Phryne smiled to herself.  There were so many possibilites.

  
  
  


Phryne sauntered through the open door with the lettering “Detective Inspector Robinson.”  Her heels ticked on the tile, and she could feel the light silk of her dress swirl around her.

“Good morning, Jack!” she chirped, and posed for effect.

The man at the desk looked up from the notes he was studying. His smile was warm, and she could not help returning a smile of her own.   “What brings you here, Miss Fisher?” 

“I need some help with my research.” She pushed the notes to one side, and took a seat on his desk. 

 


End file.
